The Rainbow at the End of the Bridge
by Angelmuse
Summary: Edward has left Carlisle's family, having rebelled against the ideal of 'vampire vegetarianism'. But he starts to feel guilty. Then, one night, he encounters a young girl named Bella, who seems to have lost the will to live....Please R & R! AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer****: I own nothing related to the Twilight Saga. These are Stephenie Meyer's characters, and no copyright infringement is intended, now, or at any time in the future, near or far.**

**This is my second Twilight tale. It suddenly came to me, the way stories sometimes do, wafting on the night breeze. **

**Edward finds Bella walking in a very dangerous part of town. He doesn't know her, but, as her scent overpowers him, so does an overwhelming urge to protect her, and get to know her better.**

**Chapter 1: Midnight Encounter **

**EPOV**

The rain lashed her face, but she was past caring. She walked down the sidewalk, obviously oblivious to her surroundings. I wondered why. Even with my limited experience with human women, I knew they didn't usually take night promenades at a late hour -- through one of the seediest neighborhoods in the city. Not, of course, unless that happened to be their profession. But this girl did not look the part. Far from it. She merely looked....lost. No, that wasn't it, exactly. She didn't look like she had no idea where she was -- just that she didn't care. That was the first thing that drew me to her. The fact that she was not afraid at all, or perhaps, was beyond such fear. On the other hand, it wasn't like she was being in any way adventurous or brave. She was clearly not interested in walking on the wild side for the heck of it.

I suspected that something had happened to her, something that had caused her to behave this recklessly. Although I wasn't close enough to see her face, her listless movements were clear evidence of this. She had made me curious. Beyond mere curiosity, however, there was the elementary reality of her scent -- the sweetest I had ever smelled. Not in all my years as a vampire had I encountered anything similar. Her scent drew me inexorably after her, and, in doing so, I went ever deeper into the night realm of the city, the land of the hopeless and the dying. I walked right by them, lying in the street, next to garbage dumps, most of them either passed out from drugs or alcohol, or merely resting for the night, if such sleep could be called rest. _Their _scent made me wrinkle my nose, and nearly obscured hers. And yet....I was easily able to detect it, following it unerringly along dilapidated streets strewn with refuse and the strangled dreams of so many lost lives. I could have taken any of them, had I chosen to. After all, I had abandoned Carlisle's utopian family, casting myself adrift, like a nomad vampire would. I had killed only one human since then. None of these derelicts even remotely tempted me, even though I was starting to feel thirsty. I was much more discriminating than that. Besides, I was having second thoughts about living according to my predatory nature. It had not been pleasant, after I had slaked my raging thirst, to be flooded with guilt and regret. The man whose life I took had murmured a woman's name, as he lay dying.... Karen, I think he whispered.... I had no idea whether she was his girlfriend or wife, or perhaps his sister. He would never see her again, thanks to me.

She stumbled, bringing my complete attention back to her. And I felt an impulse, or maybe I should call it a need, to make sure she didn't fall down, or hurt herself. I made sure to walk closer behind her, but not close enough that I would alarm her. She continued her dangerous little journey, not paying any attention to the stares and occasional drunken leers that came her way. I frowned. There was something very wrong with this human girl. She truly did _not _care about the potential danger that surrounded her at every turn. In spite of her intoxicating smell, and the thirst that was beginning to burn my throat, I felt that I had to watch her, in case someone accosted her. I don't know why I felt this need. It was nearly as strong as the need to take her blood. I was pulled along, following her everywhere she went. I turned left or right when she did so, and all the time I was observing myself, surprised at my behavior, because I finally reached the point at which her blood was less important to me than the urgent need to protect her....

She stumbled again, and this time she did fall down. I reacted without even a second thought. I was suddenly beside her, reaching down with both hands, to lift her up. She felt too limp in my hands. She looked up at me, and her eyes didn't seem to be focusing properly. I wondered whether she had overdosed on something.

I brought her up, gently, ever so gently, and all the while that incredible, beautiful, scent of hers washed over me, so powerfully I nearly took her then. But I couldn't, because suddenly her incredible eyes were on mine, and she had this wistful little smile on her face, as if she knew that she had come to the end of the road, and that just shook me.

She was mine for the taking. And so I decided to take her -- with me. I felt as if I had no choice in the matter. Somehow, it seemed to be the right thing to do. I know how very trite that sounds. But that's just how things were, for me, at that point.

She smiled at me abruptly. "Hi," she whispered, and my non-existent heartbeat lurched, as I stared at her in wonder. That breathy whisper had touched me, sliding softly along every nerve ending. i stood in front of her, powerless to do anything but stare at her, as she stared back at me.

"So," she continued, in that same soft whisper, "are you in the habit of rescuing hopeless people?"

I stared at her, speechless for a few seconds. "Hopeless?" I repeated idiotically. I was still holding her arms, and my hands trembled -- the feel of her skin on mine was arousing another kind of thirst.

"Yessss," she answered, smiling again. "You sure don't look like a rapist. So what else could you be doing? But you don't need to bother."

She looked down at my hands. "Let me go," she whispered, in a very sad voice. "I'm not even worth raping...."

I took my hands off her arms, and she glanced up, smiling her sad little smile, before she turned away to continue her walk.

Again I reacted without thinking. I reached out, and grabbed one of her arms.

"You shouldn't be walking alone in this area, at this time of night. You're risking not only rape, but certainly death, as well."

She shrugged. "No skin off your nose," she replied, indifferently.

Perhaps I had misjudged her. "Are you....a streetwalker?"

She laughed, and I eagerly drank in that laugh. It tinkled merrily, in stark contrast to her entire demeanor. I could have sworn that she momentarily turned into a different person. But it was only for a moment. Then she turned away again, gently, sadly, disengaging my hand from her arm. She was shaking her head.

I fell into step by slow step beside her. "Please," I pleaded, then stopped. Pleading? I was actually _pleading_ with someone whose blood called to me so powerfully that it was all I could do to restrain myself from drinking her dry?

"Please come with me. I don't want to leave you alone. You'll end up as just another statistic in the evening news by tomorrow, if you stay in this part of town."

She shrugged delicately again, and kept on walking. I was forced to act. So, I simply picked her up in my arms. She didn't protest or struggle, as I had expected. Definitely something seriously wrong there.

It was all I could do to keep from doing the deed then. Her scent nearly caused me to lose control. But I managed to restrain myself, and began to walk away, carefully cradling her light weight.

"I'd put that broad down if I was you," a male voice threatened in the darkness.

I turned around slightly, and was not surprised to see three brawny young men behind me, brandishing knives.

I smiled my most dangerous smile. "You don't really want me to do that, now, do you? But....if you insist...." I growled, ending on a snarl. Then I slowly, lightly, set her on her feet, keeping one arm around her waist.

I unleashed the full force of my eyes on them, snarling again for good measure.

One of them, a tall, strapping guy, froze, his gaze locked with mine. The others hesitated, looking from me to him, then back to me. Their gazes locked with mine as well.

Slowly they lowered their knives. I snarled again, and took one step toward them, keeping the girl behind me. They suddenly turned tail and fled, scattering like leaves in the wind, their knives clattering to the ground.

Satisfied, I turned to this strange girl with the most wonderful scent in the world.

She stared at me, and her brows knit together in a puzzled frown. "Wow...." she whispered. "What the _devil _did you _do_ to them?"

I chuckled -- it was an eerie, dark sound. "Maybe I'm the devil himself," I replied, as my black eyes met her brilliant green ones.

She stared right back at me, without fear. "Well, if you're the devil, you're _much _toogood-looking. And just as I was about to kill myself, too...."

"Well," I said, smiling, "I'm sorry to have upset your plans. But you won't be doing that tonight. Or anytime soon, I would imagine."

With that, I picked her up in my arms again, and easily positioned her on my back.

"What are you doing?" she asked conversationally. "Rescuing you, just as you thought," I replied. "Rescuing the most beautiful woman in the world, whose name I do not yet have the pleasure of knowing."

I could almost feel her smiling, and it filled me with sudden delight. But she didn't answer right away.

Just when I thought she wasn't going to say it, I heard her whispery voice, next to my left ear.

"Bella," she said, making my ear tingle deliciously. Somehow I wasn't surprised. It was a lovely name for a lovely girl. In Italian, it meant "beautiful".

"Now hang on tight," I told her, just before pushing off into the night. I ran as I had not run in a very long time, af if my own life depended on it, which it obviously didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**In this chapter, Bella finds out that she has been rescued by an angel who possesses an unexpected talent, for a vampire. But of course, she doesn't know what he is. Yet. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 2: The Angel's Digs**

**BPOV**

It was already late afternoon when I set out. No one figured that I would actually attempt to leave. I didn't think it would be that hard -- this wasn't a maximum security prison, but only a juvenile detention hall. My lawyer had told me that he was doing everything he could to prevent me being tried as an adult.

I had a forged pass, as well as a set of regular clothes, thanks to the mother of one of the kids, who had actually believed my story. She had sent her daughter some clothes, including some extra ones for me. The jeans looked new, the sneakers were a little bit broken in, and the T-shirt was the nicest part of my "nice-teen-girl ensemble" -- it sported a cute teddy bear with an armful of roses. I actually felt _human_ again.

I wouldn't want to bore anybody out there with the details of my life. Because my life is just a big nothing. That's just the way it is. But people might wonder what made me consider suicide an option. Somebody's bound to read this journal, sometime in the future.

No one would have thought that I would be considered a murderer. Sure, he _did_ cheat on me. Then he denied that he was involved with her at all. To top things off, he broke off our engagement in a text message. What a coward! He deserved nothing but contempt, at the very least. But _murder_? That's just not me. Not at all. Hell. I couldn't even bring myself to kill a mouse, when I saw one once, running across the dirty linoleum floor of an abandones tenement I had hidden out in, while they were looking for me.

So tonight I was going to put an end to all the garbage that was my life. No one wanted me, and I knew I wanted nobody. I appreciated the gesture by my friend's mother, but doubted she would continue to be nice to me once the conviction came through. I had no one to put up the bail money, so I was at the hall, awaiting trial.

The guard at the exit barely looked at my fake pass, and soo I was through the gates, standing outside. I breathed a sigh of relief. This was due to my friend's mother, as well, I knew. She had bribed the guard.

I didn't care about being caught, because my purpose in escaping was simply to put an end to my life. After all, I had nothing to look forward to. Although this was a local crime, where could I go?. I would be a fugitive. Anyone who did some digging into my background would be sure to find out that I was an accused murderer. Who would hire me? What school could I possibly attend? And, last but definitely not least, what man in his right mind would be crazy enough to marry me, let alone have a romantic relationship with me? No man would want to risk being killed by the vicious, cold-blooded, Elizabeth Perkins Swan.

I had always liked my mother's maiden name, in spite of the dim memories I had of her -- all of them unpleasant. So, I had decided to use the name "Isabella Swan", should I ever need to. I had some familiarity with Italian people, having grown up in the Bronx. That name had always made me think of romantic gondola rides, while nestled in the strong arms of my true love. The name "Elizabeth", while pretty, was the name of my abused self.

Now this didn't matter anymore. Whether I was "Elizabeth" or "Isabella" wouldn't matter, once they found -- or perhaps didn't find -- my lifeless body.

I tied up my sneakers tight. I was going to be doing some heavy walking before I met my doom. I had calmly given my pass to the guard on duty, whom I knew had already been bribed, and was allowed to step outside, to a freedom that would not delight me. I sought the ultimate freedom. I was ridding the world of my unwelcome presence.

Hey, so okay, I like to feel sorry for myself. Wouldn't you, in similar circumstances?

Then I began to walk, toward the bay. I would find the bridge. That became my goal. The bridge. One jump, and, since I never did learn to swim properly, that would do it. Perhaps the tide would pull me out to sea, if I was lucky. If not, then there were would be no doubt that the case was permanently closed. I no longer cared about trying to clear my name. I had spent most of my life trying to justify myself, and it simply hadn't worked. Why would this situation be any different?

I didn't want to have to go through the trial. I knew I would probably be judged as an adult. I was nearly eighteen, after all. No one would believe me -- the circumstantial evidence was just too strong. So I would then have to look forward to years and years of imprisonment, if not life. i shuddered. I had heard the usual stories of what _really_ goes on in prisons...

Swallowing an entire bottle of aspirin never occurred to me. That was not an easy thing to get at the juvenile hall, though. Hanging myself with bed sheets? Nope. They had thought of everything. There were no bed sheets on the worn mattresses -- only threabare blankets. As for eating utensils, they were all plastic, and we were still searched for those, on a daily basis.

I liked the bridge idea. I would make a splash, all right, then hopefully disappear into oblivion.

Frowning, I realized I had forgotten the type of neighborhood I would have to cross on my way to the bridge. I was on foot, of course. I had decided against taking the bus. I just didn't want to be with people who had fairly normal lives.

Well, maybe one of the neighborhood undesirables would save me the trouble of going all the way to the bridge.

I had been walking for some time when I met him. Winos and crackheads had leered at me, and I had kept walking, indifferent to them. I was on a mission to find this bridge, you see. It shouldn't have surprised me when I stumbled. I simply picked myself up and moved on. These streets were very poorly lit, and my lifelong kluziness sure didn't help. I should have turned around and gone back the way I had come, but what was there for me to go back to?

And then I fell down. A dim memory came to me as I hit the concrete sidewalk. My mother, hauling me up by one hand, slapping me hard across the face for falling down, for being so clumsy. Hell, for just _existing._

I felt hands picking me up. Gentle hands. They supported me carefully, as if I would break. I looked up, and met his eyes. They were deep black, and they mesmerized me. I couldn't focus very well at first -- I had never seen such a breathtakingly beautiful guy. Then I smiled. I had been walking in some sort of daze, just focused on that damn bridge. But then the power of his eyes snapped me out of it, and I had to smile at the irony of things. Here I was, on a mission to end my life, and an angel from heaven appeared. Well, it was too funny! Why would an angel abandon his holy green pastures and stoop to earth to rescue someone like me?

No, I wasn't hallucinating. This guy _had_ to be an angel. He didn't seem interested in attacking my body, whether sexually or violently. Wow. Now that was a first. Yeah, he had to be from the next world, although those hands holding me felt very real.

Half-seriously, I asked him if he was in the habit of rescuing hopeless people. He reacted as if I had spoken in a foreign language, because he repeated the word, "hopeless", as if he hadn't understood it.

I wanted to go on my way. I tried to shrug him off, but he persisted, telling me that I shouldn't be walking in this neighborhood alone, at this hour of the night. Yeah, yeah. _Tell me something I don't already know._

I really couldn't understand why he bothered to scare off those three dudes that came up to us, clutching knives in their hands.

Before the night was over, I discovered, to my surprise, that I was going home with him. He didn't really ask, just slung me on his back, telling me to hang on. I made my muscles obey him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and my legs around his waist. I closed my eyes tightly, and we were off.

Well, you meet all types, I guess. What an interesting way to travel. Live and learn, for sure. Only I was so tired of living and learning....

********

As I opened my eyes, I could tell that I was lying on a mattress. Then I shifted slightly, and noticed how very comfortable the mattress was. It was much too comfortable, in fact. I rolled my eyes around the room, gingerly turning my head to the left, then to the right. The pillow was very comfortable, too. The room was dimly lit, but I could tell that it was daylight, although there were heavy, burgundy-colored drapes on all the windows, and they were drawn. The room was large. I began to notice, as my eyes roamed around it. The furniture was very modern; in fact, it was obviously expensive. Everything was a warm sienna tone -- the dresser, the two night tables, and the desk and chair by the window. An intricately carved, paneled sculpture dominated one wall, which was painted in a golden shade of yellow, just like the other walls. I wasn't up on the latest trends, but I was familiar with the work of Louise Nevelson. One of my foster mothers had sold art in a New York gallery, and I had seen pieces by Nevelson from time to time, not to mention other sculptures by more recent artists. There were performance artists also, but those didn't appeal to me.

This piece was wonderful, and it looked authentic. I smiled wryly. So my strange rescuer was an art collector. More and more interesting....

The temperature in the room was very nice, too. Not too cold, not too warm. Just perfect, in fact. Still, I had been covered by a comforter, a luxuriously thick, huge thing, with a solid bright blue background on which stars of various shapes and sizes seemed to have been sprinkled. For some reason, I looked up at the high ceiling, only to find that it, too, was sprinkled with stars. The background was cobalt blue. The stars were rendered very realistically, making me think that the ceiling was actually an open window to the universe. I smiled.

I simply lay there for a few minutes, going over the events that, up until a few minutes ago, had seemed to be a dream. i knew i was awake, although on second thought, Itold myself, maybe I wasn't. This whole scenario seemed to be the stuff of New Age visualizations. It couldn't be real....of course it couldn't be. I could never hope to have such a nice room, in my _real_ life.

The sweet, poignant notes of the Debussy came softly through the door at first, then got a little louder. That was one of my favorite pieces -- again, thanks to the gallery foster mother. Too bad she had gotten so bored with me so fast. I could have really picked up more culture from her. I did show her two or three poems once, but she accused me of copying them from somewhere, and wouldn't believe that I had written them myself, no matter how much I insisted that I had.

I savored the melody, the flowing chords, picturing swans paddling elegantly across a placid lake, on a late Sunday afternoon, as the sun's rays warmly caressed the cool water. I sat at the edge of the lake, my head in my true love's lap, watching the clouds skidding across a brilliant blue sky.

That was part of the reason I wanted to kill myself. I was always imagining beautiful, romantic scenarios, torturing myself with dreams that would never really take place. Nothing good ever happened to me.

"Are you awake yet?" A young man's voice came from the adjoining room. Startled out of my impromptu fantasy, i leaned on one elbow, wondering if I should try to get up.

So this was no dream, after all. Interesting.

He suddenly appeared in the doorway, wearing a ragged old T-shirt splattered with paint, and faded jeans that were also splattered with paint. To top it all off, he wore a huge grin. His eyes, however, made me feel uneasy. They were very, very black, very ominous-looking.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, leaning on the doorjamb, arms crossed. He shifted his eyes to look around the room.

Silence from me. I literally could not speak. The sight of him was almost painful to my eyes. He was unbearably gorgeous. No. That just doesn't cover it. Words failed me. I had thought he was an angel last night, and then decided, upon awakening, that such an impression must have been the product of a morbid imagination. I was on my way to the next world, after all. The reality of him standing there did nothing to alter my impression of the night before. He was an angel incarnate. A denizen of the heavens above, and no mistake.

His physical beauty contrasted strongly with his disheveled, stained clothes.

"Well, I see that my appearance has rendered you speechless," he said, in that beautiful, melodious voice of his. Was there anything about him that was _not_ beautiful? Even his manner of speaking was beautiful. Somewhat old-fashioned, but beautiful. He spoke like someone out of an English novel. Yes, that was it. I felt like Jane Eyre meeting her Mr. Rochester, except that this guy was not much older than me, from the looks of it.

He was probably a model for some glitzy New York magazine. Or maybe one in South Beach. That would account for his excellent taste in art. He was obviously a _very _succesful model.

"Ah, but I am a terrible host!" He bounded into the room, and I couldn't help but smile at his irrepressible energy. "You must be terribly hungry! Come on, let me get you something to eat."

He held out an arm, and I stared up at him. He was grinning from ear to ear. His eyes remained a marked contrast to his wonderful smile, though. I felt funny for a moment.

I couldn't help but smile back. _Relax, Bella, he's a sweetheart._ It was surprisingly refreshing to be greeted with such cheerfulness just after waking up. He totally disarmed me. He was sort of like a big, happy, kid. At least, he seemed to be. Maybe I needed to be careful, though.

My smile faded. Maybe I should wait for the other shoe to drop.

He still held out his arm. So, I sat up, and laid a hand on his arm, with the intention of swinging my legs to the side of the bed.

At the contact with his arm, I let out a yelp. _It was ice cold._

I looked up at him, and he frowned. "Yes, I know," he said, his voice taking on a tinge of sadness. "I take medication for that, but I'm not due again for a couple of hours. It's worn off by now."

I didn't know whether to believe him or not, but I did have to get up. So I gritted my teeh, and stood up. I swayed a bit for a moment, but he steadied me with his other hand. Then he escorted me into the adjacent room, exactly as if he were walking into a ballroom.

My jaw dropped as we crossed the threshold into the room. It was huge, with high, wood-beamed ceilings. One wall, painted electric blue, had floor-to-ceiling windows, although these, too, were covered, by those same burgundy drapes, although these were _huge_. Dozens of paintings were stacked along two other walls, which were painted in the same bright blue. In the middle of the room stood a very large painting-in-progress. Three easels accommodated it. Next to the painting, there was a medium-sized wooden table, loaded with several small plastic pots, a large glass palette, more than a dozen jars of paint, and more plastic pots full of brushes of all types.

I looked at him, and he was still grinning.

"You like it? I have a one-man show coming up soon, and I'm working like mad to finish it. I thought only corporate types had to worry about such things as deadlines, but I was totally wrong. Once you become succesful at _anything_, you invariably get invaded by those disgusting deadlines."

I still couldn't speak. Not only was my rescuer an angel, but an amazingly talented artist, as well, if I had learned anything at all from my artistically-inclined foster mother.

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Reviews, reviews...I prefer them to roses! Naw,. Just kidding. They're actually tied for first place! Lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, it's daytime, and the human needs to eat breakfast. Edward's control is starting to slip, but he manages to hold on to it. The attraction between them grows. But will his true nature end up betraying him?**

**Chapter 3: Breakfast Time**

**EPOV**

I could see that I had overwhelmed the poor girl. In the harsh light of reality, after a good night's rest, things could look very different. She was probably asking herself if she had acted against her better judgment in the middle of the night. But then, what she had been planning to do had most definitely not showed good judgment, either. There was no excuse for suicide. Carlisle's experience had taught me that.

With the thought of Carlisle came a wave of nostalgia. I hadn't admitted to myself how desperately I missed them all.... especially Carlisle. But I also missed Alice, with her sudden, markedly urgent visions. She had seen that I would leave, and had told Carlisle. I flinched as I recalled his reaction. He had said nothing, but the pain of his sorrow had immediately struck my mind. Oh, he had tried to block his thoughts, of course. I still felt that sweeping torrent of grief that hit me like a great storm surge. I couldn't take it. So I blocked my mind, too, or at least, I tried to. I didn't quite succeed.

I had quietly slipped out into our back yard two nights later while they were entertained -- or so I thought -- with a game of cards. I began to run, faster and faster, until I was sure I had put enough distance between myself and the house near the woods of Forks -- the house I had come to call 'home'. As I flew along, I could feel the trail of their collective sorrow following me. I screamed into the wind.... it was a combination of rage as well as sorrow, for myself, for them.

I felt that I could not have done otherwise. I could not continue to live a lie. It was far better that I leave than continue to pretend something I couldn't hide. I could not bring myself to disappoint Carlisle. He had been much more of a father to me than my own biological father, whose memory had long ago begun to dim. I had not wanted to lie to Carlisle, especially when I knew that I never really could. He was never angry with me; instead, he grieved and was endlessly patient. He had been just as patient several days before my departure, even in the face of the evidence -- I had killed a mountain hiker who had wandered too far off the beaten trail. After I had slaked my thirst, I felt an instant revulsion, fully understanding how Carlisle could have contemplated suicide when he was a newly-made vampire. But I could not go on trying to deny what I was. The struggle was too great. So I had given in to my monstruous nature.

In the end, I had hurt Carlisle anyway...the man who had become my father in every sense of the word.

"What's the matter?" she asked me, and I snapped out of my reverie. How long had I been standing there, holding this delicious girl's hand, wandering through my past?

I smiled, shaking my head at her. I took a deep breath, and was instantly sorry. Her enthralling scent wrapped itself around me once more, and I felt the tug of my demonic thirst. Still, I was confident that I would be able to control myself. I hoped. I had never gone this long without feeding before, but I knew I would have to be absolutely tortured by thirst before I could bring myself to end another life.... I asked myself, though, if perhaps I was playing with fire. What if the life I was forced to end was Bella's? No, no, not _her_! Not this sweet, kind, luscious girl!

I shook my head again, but let go of her hand, pretending not to notice her little sigh of relief. I felt an urgent need to go to the bathroom. Revulsion swept through me again. The memory of that young man whispering Karen's name with his dying breath assaulted my mind. How could I have killed him so callously? What feverish devil had driven me to commit such a horrible act? Why could I not control myself, abiding by my father's ethical lifestyle? I had to get away from this girl. I was suddenly afraid that I would do the same thing to her.

I ran to the bathroom and locked myself inside, panting. The attraction of her scent had been too much for me. I had been over-confident. I leaned over the sink, holding myself up by grabbing its sides. _Please_......I found myself begging a God I wanted desperately to believe still cared about me, _don't let me do this to her_! I would not be the instrument of her death now, when I had only last night rescued her from its gaping jaws.

She knocked softly on the door. "Are you all right?" The concern in her voice was very evident. I closed my eyes against a sudden wave of guilt, mixed with a heady feeling of joy. She had suffered much in her life, I could tell, and yet, she was still capable of putting aside her own pain to care about another's. She was a precious jewel carelessly tossed aside by people who should have loved her, of that I was totally convinced.

I decided to fake loud retching. I hoped my performance would sound authentic to her ears. I went on like that for a full minute, then stopped.

"Are you _sure_ you're all right?" She sounded really worried now.

"I won't be long," I called out, trying to inject a reassuring tone into my voice. Then I remembered to sound just a little hoarse. After all, I had supposedly just gotten rid of the contents of my stomach. "Just a little....well, I had a few drinks last night." Sometimes I found it necessary, although never pleasant, to invent little lies by the seat of my pants.

"Oh, that's too bad."

I had not misjudged her character, by the light of the moon last night. And I could not understand why that realization touched me so deeply. She was not the first nice girl I had met. However, she was the very first one whose blood I hadn't taken. At least, not yet....

"Can I get you anything?" she now asked, and I cursed softly to myself. I should have driven her to an ER and made them admit her. I shouldn't have brought her here. But wait....I was only fooling myself. I had wanted her for my own from the moment I saw her, no... smelled her. She _had_ to be mine. It was just that I didn't know in what way, exactly, she was to be mine. Perhaps we could, well, have a _relationship_, as they called it nowadays. I smiled bitterly. Yes, of course we could -- until she found out my true nature. Then she would run for the hills. I promised myself, then and there, that I would not pursue her if she chose to do just that.

"No, I'll be fine," I responded. I had to take control of myself. I had to stop trembling so...

After a few more minutes, I felt that I would be able to be in her presence without feeling the consuming need to sink my teeth into her delectable throat and drink until I had emptied her completely of blood. I lifted my head, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I had to smile wryly as I remembered the silly old legends about vampires and mirrors. We had reflections, just like humans do. Perhaps it would be much better if we didn't. Then we wouldn't be able to see what monsters we were. Suddenly, I stared at myself with a new awareness. _How long would my eyes remain black_?It had been too long since I had fed. I wondered how long I could hold out. Was there a vampire record about this? I was glad, though, that my eyes weren't red. Yet. I knew that, when they eventually colored, I would _not_ be able to stop myself from killing her, ethics or no ethics.

So that meant I had to get away from her so I could feed. I just didn't know how to do that without arousing the suspicion that something was _radically _wrong with me.

I straightened, pasting a charming smile on my face. I prayed it would fool her. Then, I slowly opened the door.

I wasn't surprised to see her standing right outside the bathroom, an anxious expression on her face. When she saw me, she squealed, but definitely not in delight.

"Oh, you look terrible!" And I thought my smile would fool her...

I nodded, careful not to breathe. There would be no problem at all, I hoped, if I simply didn't breathe. Doing so was entirely optional for vampires, of course.

"Well, er, thanks," I said drily as I tried to walk past her. _Control, Edward. You're doing fine._

Her gaze followed me into the kitchen. Then, she followed me into that room.

"But I don't understand," she went on while I quietly cursed myself. "You seemed fine a few minutes ago, when you came into the bedroom! How could you get sick so suddenly?"

Wildly, I sought some quick explanation.

"Well, you know, sometimes a hangover has a delayed reaction," I said through my teeth.

She shrugged, then sat down in a kitchen chair. "Well, I'm not much of a drinker, so I wouldn't really know."

_Thank you, great God above! _I had never thought of myself as a pious sort, but it now seemed appropriate to show gratitude to the Deity.

"Well, that explains it, then," I said with great relief. I immediately changed the subject. "Now, what would you like to eat? And don't tell me you're not hungry, because I won't believe you."

As if on cue, her stomach growled and I laughed. "Well, let's see....you do like srambled eggs, right? Or would you prefer French toast? And coffee, too, of course."

She shrugged, and gave me a wan, shy smile. "Whatever you have is fine with me," she said simply, not meeting my eyes.

_My teeth were still clenched._

"Look," I replied, as I rummaged through one of the cupboards. "I have plenty of food here, but don't eat much myself. So go ahead and ask for whatever you like. Your body wants to live, even if your mind thinks it doesn't."

She turned her face away from me, and I could tell she was trying to hold back a sudden rush of emotion. I felt an urge to go to her and put my arms around her, but wasn't sure that would be a wise thing to do. Well, I had been holding my breath for a while now, so perhaps it would be all right.

I was at her side before I could change my mind. I gathered her into my arms.

"Hey, it's gonna be fine," I whispered soothingly. "But go ahead and cry. You need to let your emotions out."

She did. I held her until I knew I could do so no longer. Then I forced myself to pull away, although I wanted to hold her forever....

I went back to the stove, trying not to sigh.

"So, breakfast!" I did my best to sound cheerful. "Coming right up, a gourmet meal for Bella, who will _not_ be jumping off any bridges any time soon!"

I dove into a cabinet under the sink, and started rattling pots and pans. It might seem strange for a vampire to have such things in his kitchen, as well as real food in his refrigerator, but I had some contact with humans, from time to time. Mostly it was fellow artists or my agent, or perhaps a gallery director. I always tried to discourage such visits, but couldn't prevent them from taking place entirely. The best I could do was to make sure they took place at night. It wouldn't do to have any of my human acquaintances -- I couldn't consider them friends -- see the effects of sunlight on my skin. And unfortunately, there was a _lot _of sunlight in the city I had chosen to live in -- Miami, Florida. I figured there would be plenty of tourists here. Their sudden disappearance could always be explained away somehow.

I grimaced, running my tongue over my teeth. Anger suddenly rippled through me -- anger at Carlisle, for making me what I was. I vehemently wished he had let me die. It was better than being an inhuman monster. Here I was, cheerfully anticipating my next tourist feeding. Had I forgotten that I had the grisly duty of disposing of the body afterward? That was the worst part. That was when the guilt hit, along with the revulsion, the regret...

Behind me, Bella actually laughed.

"You still haven't told me your name," she said suddenly. If I had had a heartbeat, it surely would have spiked.

I finally found a frying pan, grabbed it, and pulled it out. Then I straightened, facing her. For some strange reason, I was abruptly finding it a bit hard to smile.

"Edward. Edward Cullen."

She stared at me, an expression of abject terror on her face. Then she screamed.

I didn't have to ask her why. By now, I was incredibly hungry. My facial expression must have told her very clearly what I really was.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Liked it? Did you feel a shiver run down your spine as you got to the end of the chapter? I'd be very happy to know what you thought and felt! Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So what will happen now? Hopefully, Bella won't be...consumed...**

**Chapter 4: Bloodlust **

**EPOV**

She couldn't seem to stop screaming. I stared at her helplessly. The venom pooled in my mouth, and I knew that very soon, I would strike...

Then she fainted. I cringed. She had just made everything so much easier for me. I shifted my eyes away from her, toward the living room, where I could see my finished paintings stacked against two of the walls. Perhaps I could turn my unholy, unbearable thirst, as well as my anger, into a creative frenzy.

I was only fooling myself.

I walked over to her unconscious body, feeling the pull of her delicate, simply delicious self. I wasn't breathing yet. If I allowed myself to do so, I would inevitably sink my teeth into her.

I hesitated. My two selves, the vampire and the human I had been, and was still, even if I tried to deny it at such times, warred with each other. I wanted to kill her. I _had_ to have her blood. It had been sheer madness to bring her here. The human in me had been taken in by her helplessness, her vulnerability, the sadness I had felt in her. The human part of me had already fallen irrevocably in love with her...and yet, the monster raged, straining to kill. I had to squash the human, in order to do it, quickly and without a qualm. The horrible feelings would come later, I knew. But now, the monster fought to break free of the slim restraint imposed by the human.

My jaw worked as I stood over her. I bent down to pick her up, staring obsessively at her jugular vein, faintly visible underneath her skin. Only vampire vision was able to pick up such a delicate detail.

I held her so carefully...as if I were afraid of breaking her. Ironic, of course. Soon she would be nothing more than another corpse to discard. My right hand was at the base of her skull. I closed my eyes, even as I prepared for my unerring, cobra-like strike. I didn't need to have my eyes open for _that_.

Then a vision came to me. I saw this beautiful girl, with an appropriately beautiful name, as she looked up at me, her goodness plainly visible in her eyes. She stared at me innocently, smiling, pronouncing my name in that breathy voice...

I opened my eyes. With a moan of anguish, I fell to my knees, her slight form still cradled in my arms. I wanted to kiss her, but didn't dare. I might bite her lips instead, and then, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop feeding until I was full of her blood.

I laid her gently on the floor, as the terrible thirst continued to rage through me. I threw back my head, howling like a werewolf. I had never suspected that vampires could make such a sound. The anguish was building up, so unbearable I knew I wouldn't be able to tolerate it any longer... If vampires had the ability to cry, I surely would have done it at that point.

_I had to do something. I had to get away from her._

Then I remembered. How could I have forgotten? The animal blood in the fridge... I always kept at least three jars of it, in case of just such an emergency. After all, I couldn't risk going out in the daylight. And it would have looked very strange indeed, had I wrapped myself up in heavy clothing, in the middle of August.

Picking her up again, I hurriedly carried her into the bedroom, laying her on the bed. Then I ran back into the kitchen and frenziedly tore the refrigerator door open, although I was careful not to do this so forcefully that I would tear it right off the hinges. _The hunger was now totally unbearable_. Grabbing one of the jars filled with the blood, I twisted the lid open, and downed its contents in several gulps. I did the same with the second one. Then I stared at the third, wondering whether I should consume it, as well.

I swallowed convulsively and closed my eyes, letting the blood do its work of reviving me. It wasn't as satisfying as human blood, of course. It would have to do for now. I simply couldn't picture myself taking this innocent girl's blood. I simply couldn't bear the thought that, because of me, her heart would no longer beat, would no longer pump the life-bearing fluid throughout her body.

Sighing, I took the third jar, and emptied it, as well. Then I rinsed all three jars in the sink, and put them in the dishwasher. Now that Bella was here, I would have to make sure she never saw filled jars in the fridge. Perhaps if I hid them in the back...

********

I was sitting in the kitchen, my bloodlust now under control. I knew that I would soon need more blood, however.

Then I heard her scream again.

At the same moment, my acute hearing picked up a knock on the door.

I rushed into the bedroom, where I noticed her cowering on the bed. The knocking was becoming more urgent, too.

I looked at her, and she stared at me, puzzled instead of terrified. I knew then that my face no longer betrayed my true nature.

"Bella," I whispered, dismayed. She said nothing. Perhaps she was dazed.

The knocking on the door increased to a frantic pounding. "Open this door right now, Edward, or I'm calling the cops!"

I knew the voice. Jack Quinn, one of my neighbors. He would occasionally drop in for a beer, and we would chat while I painted.

"Hold on, Jack!" I called out. "Let me turn down the TV!"

"Bella," I whispered again. My voice, soft as velvet, would weave itself into her mind. Such is the power of vampire fascination. "Everything's all right. You're safe. Please believe me. I would not hurt a hair on your head. I promise. I rescued you, remember?"

She continued to stare at me, and then her gaze moved down to my T-shirt. I looked at myself, and saw fresh blood stains on it now, along with the dried paint stains.

I looked back at her, again willing her to calm down. I knew that the hypnotic effect of my eyes was working on her when I saw her visibly relax.

I hazarded a breath, and was more than relieved to find that I was pretty much under control.

"Now," I went on, as I proceeded to weave my spell, "I want you to stay here quietly, where you will wait for me. I'll shut the door, but I'll be in shortly. All right?"

She nodded, never taking her eyes from mine. I shut the door.

Breathing out another sigh, I ran over to the bathroom, where I whipped off my T-shirt threw it on the floor, and grabbed another one that was very conveniently hanging behind the door. Afterward, I ran over to the huge plasma screen on one side of the room, and grabbed the remote. In a split second, I had a zombie movie up on the screen.

Vampire speed can be so useful.

Jack pounded on the door again, and I was immediately there to open it. When I had done so, he stood there, arms crossed, glaring at me.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Edward? What's the idea, anyway?"

I smiled a little nervously. I had to get rid of him fast. _I had to talk to Bella. _But I couldn't arouse his suspicions.

"Sorry, man. I didn't know you were squeamish about horror movies."

He shrugged. "Well, hell, I don't particularly like them, but I guess they're better than some romantic slush flick." He peered into the apartment.

I had no choice but to wave him in.

He walked in warily, looking around. I wondered if he was expecting a skeleton to come dancing out of one of my closets. He glanced at the TV screen, where one of the zombies was running after one of the hapless humans. The human, a girl, was screaming, and I had the fleeting thought that I didn't know zombies could move that fast. So much for _ B_ movies.

Jack frowned. "You know, I could have sworn I heard a strange howl, too.'

I shrugged, grinning. "There are a couple of werewolves in this movie, as well as zombies, and...vampires."

Suddenly, all the tension seemed to drain out of his body, and he turned to the painting I had propped up on three easels. He studied it for a couple of minutes, then grinned.

"Seems to be coming along great. When's the opening?"

I relaxed, too. My art was about the only thing that could take my mind off my hideously inhuman nature. That, and classical music, which I usually had playing when I was in the throes of creation.

"It's tentatively set for the first week of September. You're coming, right?"

"You know I am. I'm bringing Alice along, too. She just _loves _art -- any style, modern, impressionistic, you name it."

I could feel myself becoming even paler than I usually was.

"_Alice_?" I mumbled. And then a picture of _my_ Alice rose in my mind. Alice. My funny, quirky sister with the incredible visions. If I let my mind have its way, I would be able to...but there they were -- my family. My chest tightened.

"Yeah. You haven't met her -- we just started going steady last week. She's dying to meet you, too."

I stirred uneasily. Funny choice of words he had. "Well, um, actually, Jack, I do have to get ready to go out in a while, but I wanted to get some painting in first,,,"

Jack barked a laugh. He was such an easy-going guy. "Sure, no problem. Got a beer I can swindle out of you?"

I grinned, and we walked into the kitchen. I didn't look at him as I gingerly opened the refrigerator door. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be broken.

I emerged from the fridge, two beers in hand. I would make sure to plant the suggestion in his mind that I had actually drunk mine. "Here you go."

I started to push him out of the kitchen. "Sorry to rush you, Jack, but I really have to get this painitng finished. I promise I'll have you and...Alice over for dinner one of these nights."

He grinned. "Cool! Saves me the trouble of trying to get to first base with dinner."

I shook my head, laughing, as I walked him to the door. "You're impossible, Jack! I"ll bet she's your true love, too, right? For this month, anyway."

He shrugged as I opened the door. "Well, hey, just remember to keep the TV down, will ya? You wouldn't want Alice to get spooked when she visits, you know? And thanks for the beer."

I nodded soberly. "I totally understand. Later, guy," I closed the door practically in his face.

Then I sprinted toward the bedroom, and threw open the door.

She had remained on the bed, as I had ordered her to. She was staring unseeingly into space.

I was afraid to approach her, and bring her out of the trance. What would I say to her? A thought occurred to me, but then, I had never used the legendary vampire power of erasing a human's memory. I wasn't sure I wanted to use it on her, either.

No, I wanted her to be completely awake when I spoke with her next.

I walked thoughtfully back into the living room. My agent. I had to speak with my agent. My cell was on my spacious, sculpted coffee table. An identical one had been featured in _Architectural Digest_ the previous week.

"Alex?" My agent wasn't far -- just a couple of blocks away. "I need a huge favor from you. Yeah, I know, you'll want one of my paintings for it. No problem. Can you come over right now?"

There was a slight pause, and then he said this was a really bad time. I could guess why -- my keen hearing had picked up a woman's frustrated sigh in the background.

"All right, Alex -- _two_ paintings. Just come over right away, okay?"

Having come so close to killing my beautiful Bella, I couldn't see myself causing another mysterious tourist disappearance. I didn't think I'd be able to tolerate the expression of terror on yet another human victim's face.

********

It was just fifteen minutes later, exactly, when I heard another knock on the door. I picked up my cell again, and dialed the number of Alex's cell. I didn't want to answer the door if it wasn't him knocking.

He picked up in two rings. "I'm standing right in front of your door," he said, obviously annoyed.

"K."

Flipping my cell shut, I put it in the pocket of my jeans. I calmly walked over to the door, and opened it.

Alexander Wainright was the only human I had trusted with my true nature, to a point. He did not know that I had killed humans. He always supplied me with the necessary animal blood when I requested it. As far as he knew, that was all I drank. I don't even know where he obtained the jars of blood, but they were necessary for those unfortunate times when I could not go out in the daylight without attracting attention due to my unusually heavy attire. Miami doesn't really have seasons. The temperature could hit the mid-eighties even in the middle of December, as it had the previous year. Snowbirds walking around Lincoln Road would be sure to stare at anyone who went out wearing a turtleneck sweater and gloves, not to mention a ski mask. Not even my face could be visible, of course.

The problem is that vampires sparkle in the sunlight. The Volturi would have been over here in a flash, had any stories hit the papers about a sparkling guy walking around the city.

"Okay, Edward," he said, visibly annoyed. "You need more blood, right? Geez, why now? I was in the middle of something.,."

I waved dismissively at him. "I know, Alex, and I'm sorry. But this is a _real _emergency. It's not animal blood, either."

I stepped into the kitchen as I spoke, and he followed me. He gave a low whistle when I showed him the three jars in the dishwasher.

"Good God! You must have been ravenous!"

I nodded soberly. "I'm having a big problem with control today. I need you to go to a blood bank and....'

He didn't allow me to finish. "A what?! Are you out of your mind?"

I sighed. I had known this wasn't going to be easy.

"A blood bank. You heard me. I need you to buy some _human _blood for me. Please. I'll make it really worth your while."

His eyes were wide, round. "You're really creeping me out, Edward."

I was starting to feel desperate. "Look, Alex, just name your price. I'll give you enough to buy the blood, plus a nice amount as a sort of commision, _plus _the two paintings. Cross my heart."

He shook his head, exasperated. "Do you think I can just waltz into a blood bank and ask to buy blood? Do you want them to lock me up in a padded white cell? You just don't _buy_ blood, Edward! Only doctors and hospitals have access to the blood in blood banks!'

My panic rose. "But Alex, I thought you had _connections_." I stared at him meaningfully.

"Well, yeah, some, but..."

I grinned. "I knew I could count on you!" I clapped him on the shoulder.

He eyed me, unconvinced. "Why do you want human blood now? Isn't the animal blood satisfying you?"

I shook my head. "I guess not...at the moment. Believe me, I wouldn't ask you to do this if it weren't _really_ necessary. You don't want me to start killing humans, do you?"

I saw him shudder, and he backed two steps away from me, eyeing me warily.

I smiled nervously. "Alex, don't worry. You're safe. But I _do_ need the human blood right now. Please."

We stared at each other. Then he shrugged. He knew when he was beaten. I hadn't had to use my vampire powers to gain his compliance, either. Well, I never had, with Alex.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," I said, in all sincerity. "You have no idea how much I owe you for this."

"You sure do!" he put in, drily.

We walked back into the living room, and I went over to one of the couches, where I had carelessly flung one of my good pair of jeans -- a pair I would never dream of wearing while painting. I dug in one of the pockets, and fished out a thick roll of bills. Alex didn't bat an eye. He was more than used to seeing me pull huge wads of cash out of my pockets, in his presence. I never did so in public. I wouldn't want to be in a thief's shoes, if I ever caught one trying to rob me.

I peeled five big bills out of the roll, and handed them over to Alex, who took them nonchalantly.

"Keep the change," I said, wryly.

"How soon do you need this by?" He was already tucking the bills into a one of the front pockets of his jeans.

"By nightfall tomorrow," I answered, casually.

He snorted. "You're the weirdest vampire...but what am I saying? _All_ of you guys are..." Then he paled, his eyes huge. "Wait a minute...just how many of you weirdos are out there?"

"Just be glad it's not a human being I'm asking you to bring up here, so I can drain them dry." I didn't answer his question.

He snorted again. "Funny, Edward!" But I had not counted on his typically human inquisitiveness. "Give me an answer. _How many_?"

I hesitated. "Well..."

"_How many_?" He hissed the words between his teeth.

"We're all around you. Although at the moment, I don't know of any others besides me in this city. And I'm telling you the truth."

And I really was, in a way. There was a small coven further north, in the Hallandale area. I had always steered clear of them, though, and doubted they knew of my existence. I was absolutely sure that there were no other vampires in my area, which was South Beach. That would have been an intrusion on my territory. I was free to stroll along Ocean Drive at night, and claim my victims from the tourists perpetually thronging that popular street.

He seemed to relax a bit. "Okay. Now how about my two paintings?"

"When you return with the blood," I assured him, as I stuck my hands in my pockets. I noticed he was keeping his distance from me, but I could hardly blame him for that. "You can pick out any two you like."

He sighed. "The things I do for budding Picassos," he muttered.

"Cullen. The name is Cullen. And I've always hated Picasso. In my book, Matisse is far superior."

My agent shrugged, grinning.

I grinned right back. "Later, Alex -- and thanks,"

I shut the door, feeling the huge weight I had been carrying lifted, as if by magic, from my shoulders.

Now I would have to go speak with Bella. I hoped and even prayed that I would be able to convince her not to run away. I might have been fooling myself, but I thought that dealing with a sometimes thirsty vampire would be preferable to being drowned in the uncaring waves of the bay.

I can be incredibly stupid at times.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Edward and Bella appear to be on the verge of reaching an understanding. Or are they?**

**Chapter 5: The Hurtful Truth**

**BPOV**

I could not remember coming back into the bedroom. I supposed Edward had laid me on the bed, but my mind could not recall the details. I frowned, shivering. There was something else...something that was making my skin crawl. The image was floating in front of my eyes, and refused to go away. His eyes. His face. They were the eyes and face of a ruthless killer. As he had turned to me in the kitchen, he had suddenly become a demon. The change had been so sudden. One second, he had been laughing, casually dismissing his hangover. The next second, as he faced me, I had been confronted by a totally different, totally terrifying person.

I could not forget that face. I do remember screaming, and then, I guess I must have fainted, because his features were abruptly swallowed in darkness.

Now I was awake, back on the bed. He had carried me in here... I shuddered, thankful that he had not seized the opportunity to kill me. The fact that he hadn't did puzzle me, nevertheless. Then I mentally shrugged. Who cared, anyway? My life would soon be over, regardless. What did it matter if this Edward were the one to end it?

I tried to sit up, without success. It was as if I were paralyzed, although I knew such a notion was absurd. I shivered again. I slowly realized that I didn't want to die. Not just yet. And certainly not at the hands of a demented killer. I breathed in shakily. Was this the real reason he had 'rescued' me from the dark recesses of that crack-infested neighborhood I had been so carelessly walking through?

Of course, this meant that I had to get away. The problem was just _how_ I would accomplish that.

At that point, I heard a slight noise, and I glanced at the door. It was slowly opening. I felt like screaming, but my throat was tightly closed. I couldn't have produced a scream even if he had rushed into the room to strangle me, right then and there.

"Bella?"

_How strange that even demon killers can have such angelic voices_, I thought.

I dragged in another shaky breath.

The door opened completely, and he walked in, hesitantly, his eyes on me. I was surprised to see that they were full of anxious concern. He didn't look frightening anymore, either. His face appeared to be perfectly normal, and his body language was not threatening at all.

I was very sure that I hadn't imagined what I'd seen before.

"Bella?" His voice was as hesitant as his slow entrance into the room. I couldn't take my eyes from his. I was surprised again by their worried expression.

Mr. Hyde had completely vanished, and Dr. Jekyll was back.

"Are you...all right?' His voice shook a little.

I nodded. He breathed a sigh of relief, which puzzled me even more. He had, after all, scared the living daylights out of me.

"May I sit next to you?" He had stopped about a foot away from the bed, still staring at me anxiously.

My eyes widened in more surprise at his question, but I nodded again, so he stepped over to the opposite side of the bed, and sat down right next to my left side. I couldn't help flinching slightly, though. I glanced away, toward a nearby wall.

"Look at me, Bella," he whispered, but his voice had an air of authority in it. Reluctantly, I obeyed. It seemed as if I really had no will of my own. Well, I had not put much stock in my own life since I had left the juvenile detention hall. I had been feeling detached from anything and anyone whom I might encounter. Still, the fact that I seemed to have no control over my own actions annoyed me, at least a little.

"I need to tell you something, and I hope that you will believe me. Will you listen to me?"

I finally found my voice, although it came out hoarse, as if I hadn't used it for a very long time. "Yes, I will."

"Good," he said, relieved. Then he looked more deeply into my eyes; I found that I could not look away. "I will release you now, but only if you promise not to try to run away from me."

I frowned. "Release me?" I asked him, in a puzzled tone.

"Just say 'yes'", he urged, "and I will explain...well, I'll try to, anyhow."

"All right," I answered, calmly, although my heart had started pounding furiously.

He continued to stare at me for a second, and then he blinked. After that, he closed his eyes briefly, opening them again almost immediately. Then he took my left hand, tugging me into a sitting position. I flinched at his cold touch, but said nothing about it.

Amazingly, I found that I could now move, and sat up. As soon as I became aware of this, I tried to jump off the bed. But he grabbed my arms and tugged me down at once. I was imprisoned by icy manacles.

"You promised, Bella," he warned, and it came out as a hiss betwen his teeth. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I looked at him over my shoulder, my alarm rising.

"What are you?" I whispered, terrified, as I struggled with all of my puny strength to get free. It was useless, of course. He was far stronger than me.

"Bella, please! I don't want to hurt you!"

"But you are!" His hands were like steel claws now. I couldn't shake them off. "Please let me go!" I started to thrash around, my fear rising by the second.

"Bella...stop! Look at me." His voice had that ring of authority in it again. And again I had to obey.

I looked at him. His eyes looked deeply into mine yet again, drawing me more and more into their depths. I stopped struggling, and then...

He moved slightly toward me, his gaze now on my mouth. Pulling me gently closer, he brought his face slowly down to mine. His lips descended softly upon my own, and I was powerless to stop him.

After a couple of seconds, I was sure I didn't want to stop him.

His lips, as bitterly cold as his hands, were unexpectedly gentle on mine. They fluttered softly, caressing. They lingered over the corners of my mouth, gently kissing, as his tongue flicked out to lick them.

I forgot everything but his mouth.

A feeling so sweet, so poignant that I had no name for it, rose within me. Not even Ryan, with all his expertise, had ever kissed me like this. Edward's lips were not demanding; instead, they sought to give. They gave the sweetest, gentlest touch of heady pleasure. Oh, I wanted those cold lips...

His tongue flicked out again, delicately tracing the contours of my lips, which parted automatically. His tongue smoothly slid inside, and began a gentle, probing massage of my mouth. I turned to face him fully as I opened my lips further, and he deepened the kiss, moving even closer to me, placing a very gentle hand behind my head, while his other hand surrounded my waist, also very gently. Yet, he was pressing me agaisnt his body.

Somehow, my arms found their way around his neck, and I pulled him even closer, too. My heart was pounding furiously in my ears, but not from fear now.

I kissed him back with every ounce of female power I possessed, and he responded eagerly, his hands beginning to massage my back, even as he whispered urgently against my lips, "Bella, Bella, Bella..."

Suddenly, he stopped. He just froze. His tongue abruptly left my mouth, and he pulled away from me. I opened my eyes and stared at him in shock. He could not seem to meet my eyes.

"What...what happened?" I cried out, feeling a strange sense of panic. "What are you doing?"

He looked at me for a moment, his eyes anguished, and shook his head, glancing away. "I don't know," he whispered. His voce sounded so sad that I felt stricken, although I couldn't understand why.

"Why in the world did you stop?" _Is he actually regretting having kissed me_?

He stood up abruptly. "I could hurt you," he said simply. But he stood there, looking uncertainly at the floor, as if he didn't know what to do next.

I wasn't sure what to make of all this. It seemed that my guardian angel had a real problem with personal identity. I had seen a monster a while ago, and now saw a potential lover. I couldn't reconcile the two.

"Look, Bella," he said softly, as he met my eyes. "I need to explain something to you. But you will probably not believe me. And if you do, then you will run away from me, screaming. I...don't want to lose you. I felt pulled to you from the first moment I saw you. I couldn't let you die. And I promise you that you will _not_ die at my hands.'

This was getting stranger and stranger. Who was this guy, and what was he hiding? Had I found a psychopath? Well, with my luck, why not?

"I'd like you to give me some time," he went on hurriedly when I didn't reply. "I want you to see who I really am, not who I seem to be. Will you allow me to let you see my real self, Bella? I'm not really a monster, even though you might have gotten the impression that I am."

I was speechless. I continued to stare at him, my emotions at war. Then I noticed that. My emotions? _I'm feeling again._

"There's just one problem," I pointed out. As my heartbeat steadied, my mind began to assert itself. "How can I possibly trust you not to try to kill me? How can I know for sure that you won't turn into...a monster once more, and _this time_, won't be able to stop yourself?"

He nodded somberly, obviously agreeing with my assessment of the situation.

'You're right not to trust me," he said, his voice full of pain. "You are more right than you'll ever know. If you could see into my mind, you'd realize that."

"Well, maybe _you_ wouldn't hurt me, but the other one probably would," I pointed out, warily.

He nodded, understanding. "Yes, it can be very disconcerting to be confronted by a monstruous killer, when a minute ago you could have sworn that you were speaking to a normal person."

He paused meaningfully, and then stared at me as his expression turned smug. "And yet, you kissed me back."

I shook my head, bewildered. "I must have been out of my mind temporarily. Either that, or you put some sort of spell on me."

He chuckled at that remark. 'You're very close to the truth."

My heart skipped a beat. "I am?!"

"Yes...and no."

I continued to stare at him. "Just what the _heck_ are you? Are you on steroids or something?"

He laughed heartily at that.

"No, Bella, I can assure you I'm not, although I wish that were true. You would be able to trust me then."

I opened my mouth to reply to that, but he went on, sighing as his eyes continued to hold mine.

"Bella, you haven't told me your last name."

My heart skipped a beat once more. I wondered if he were the type who wanted to keep informed by watching the news all the time.

"Swan," I replied, a little nervously. I hoped he wouldn't suspect that this was not my real last name.

He smiled. "Bella Swan. How very appropriate. 'Beautiful Swan'. Lovely!"

I knew I was blushing. I ducked my head in embarrassment. "Thanks," I murmured.

"Hey," he said abruptly. "Let's call a truce, shall we? You eat some breakfast, and then we can sit down calmly and..."

I was alarmed all over again. "Calmly? After what happened a while ago?"

His smile widened. "You mean the kiss?"

"No," I said, my voice rising slightly as I, too, got to my feet. "I mean what happened before that."

That shook him. I could see the hurt expression reappear on his face. Then, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes glittered sadly.

"Yes, you're right, of course. Well, then, I shall have no choice but to allow you to make your escape, if you wish to go. I take it that survival has suddenly become very important to you."

His sarcastic remark hit its mark. Hadn't I been anxious to end my life? Would it really be so bad to end it in his arms, as he made love to me? An intimate image rose in my mind, an image of dark, heated passion, as those masterful lips kissed every burning inch of my nude body...

"Bella? Did you hear me? I said, you're free to go, if you wish to. I won't stop you."

I stared at him. "Do you really mean that?" I thought this might be a ploy. I knew something about psychopaths. I shrugged away a brief memory of Uncle Frank.

"Yes, I really do. Perhaps it would be for the best. I wanted to save you. But if would be highly ironic if I were to become the instrument of your death, instead."

I didn't know what to say.

"You can go, Bella." He sounded so sad as he spoke. "Only please don't try to do away with yourself. Promise. For me."

I nodded. Satisfied, he nodded, too, and then asked me to follow him into the huge living room. He walked over to the luxurious, black velvet couch, where a nice pair of jeans lay, carelessly thrown across a voluminous purple cushion. He picked up the jeans, and thrust a hand into one of the pockets. When he withdrew it, he was clutching a thick wad of bills, which he held out to me.

"Here, take this. You can get yourself a hotel room or something, and this will last you a few days. All I ask is that you let me know how you're doing, at least once a week."

I couldn't find anything to say.

Reaching into another pocket of the jeans, he pulled out a business card.

"Here's my agent's cell number. You can call him, and he'll let me know. You can also tell him if you need more money, and I'll...."

I stared at the money, then back at his face. "I can't accept this."

"Sure you can. You have to. Consider it a small reparation for scaring you so badly."

I shook my head. "No, Edward. I can't."

"But you will," he said, fiercely, as he reached out and put the money firmly in the right front pocket of my jeans. Then he stepped back, putting his hands in his own pockets. He didn't look at me.

"Now, go," he said, in that authoritative tone I was fast becoming familiar with.

I was too stunned to move.

"Go!" Now he looked directly into my eyes. To my astonishment, I saw that his were now completely blank, emotionless. His face, however, was terrifying.

I ran to the door and tried to open it.

"It's locked," I said over my shoulder, inexplicably feeling trapped.

Without a word, he walked over to me, unlocking the door with a swift, deft movement of his fingers, and flinging it wide open.

I hesitated even as I was about to walk through it, and out of his life for good. He stood there, waiting to close the door, staring at the wall next to it.

Anguish suddenly squeezed my heart. Was I making a mistake? And yet, that face... I shuddered.

"Thank you," I whispered, staring down at the floor. Then I turned, and stumbled out into the hallway.

The door softly clicked shut behind me.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Edward tries to handle his pain and anguish through his art. Will his hopes be rewarded, or is Bella gone for good? Why does he seem troubled after answering a rather inopportune phone call?**

**Chapter 6: Catharsis**

**EPOV**

The door shut softly, and the ensuing silence wrapped me in a shroud of misery. I stood by the door for a few minutes, hoping against all odds that it would open again, and she would walk back in. But then, she wouldn't do that -- not the Bella I had already begun to love. She would knock timidly, afraid that I might decide not to answer.

After a few minutes of irrational hope, I turned away slowly. My eyes, perfect in their power to see every minute detail of my surroundings, refused to focus. The shroud was threatening to suffocate me, if that was possible. I chuckled bitterly. I realized that this heavy, oppressive feeling was something with which heartbroken humans were familiar. How ironic that I had never felt it, then, before Carlisle had changed me, and was instead feeling it now... I had never gone through the very human experience of falling in love. Nor had I ever experienced the wrenching pain that accompanies the loss of that love.

Perhaps I was having rather melodramatic thoughts. I had known this girl part of one night, and part of the next day. It wasn't like we had broken up after years together! Yet, it felt like that, like a major relationship had ended. I just couldn't get a grip.

Somehow, I made my legs take me further into the living room while I kept my ears attuned to the door. I would, of course, hear the merest scratch made on it at once. However, no reassuring sound came, so I continued to walk slowly, toward the three easels that held my current work-in-progress.

I stood before the huge canvas, studying it briefly. I then glanced toward the paints and brushes on the large, sturdy table next to it. Sighing, I walked over to the table and looked over my jars of acrylic paints. Frowning, I tried to pick out a color. I attempted to concentrate on that alone, without much success. I picked up a brush, then put it down again. Then I studied the painting once more. It was an abstract. The composition swirled all over the canvas, with multiple layers painted over others, and curious shapes peeking through some of those layers. I had tried to capture a feeling of cosmic grandeur in this piece. The style owed something to the free-form works of the 20th-century Russian painter, Wassily Kandinsky, although my own style was very much apparent as well. In fact, it dominated the painting.

I couldn't conjure up any interest whatsoever in the unfinished work before me. I turned away from it, shooting a hopeful glance toward the door. I had heard nothing, but that didn't stop me from looking anyway.

With another very human sigh, I brought my attention back to the painting. Well. Obviously, I wasn't going to be doing much with it today. The art show opening was looming closer, but my heart simply wasn't in it.

Yet, I had to do something. I couldn't just allow myself to sink into this well of gloom. So I walked over to a corner of the vast living room and grabbed one of the heavy easels leaning on the wall. Bringing it to the center of the living room, I grabbed a fresh canvas and set it up, after which I dragged the work table over to it.

I opened up a jar of burnt umber and poured some of the color on the palette, gazing at it for a few seconds. Yes, that was appropriately somber. Then I opened up the burnt sienna and the vermillion. Some red would definitely be necessary. I had to run to the kitchen momentarily, in order to fill up two small plastic buckets with water, which I also set on the table. Then I was ready to begin.

Picking up a flat brush, I dipped it into the umber and began laying in what I thought might be a beginning layer. Then, abruptly, I took up another slimmer brush, which I dipped into the burnt sienna. My strokes, which had begun as background, became more defined. I realized that I had started to actually draw. I remembered my gesture drawing classes at the local community college in which we had drawn nude models. I went on, a bit puzzled, but I knew from experience that I just had to let the work emerge from my subconscious without trying to control it.

The lines became much more defined. A head was definitely emerging. The features were taking shape under my deft, commanding brushstrokes. Furiously I continued, now slashing strokes on the canvas. I laid in the hair, and suddenly I realized why I had started with brown colors.

I was creating a portrait of Bella.

My eyes smarted suddenly. Had I been human, they would have filled with tears. I was stricken with a powerful wave of sadness combined with anger, so I continued to slash at the canvas. I brought in more burnt sienna, as well as the vermillion. I added magenta, veridian, and continued to work like a madman as Bella's face took on more life. Although I did prefer to paint abstracts, I was quite adept at realism, of course. In fact, the upcoming show would include some of my more realistic works.

I went on, adding different colors as I went along -- cobalt blue, ocher, lemon yellow. I shaped her forehead, her nose... When I came to her lips, my own opened in wonder, and I slowed down. Tendernly, gently, I brushed in the colors that would make her lush lips look real enough to kiss... I became enraptured with those lips, even as I realized that her still unfinished green eyes were trying to stare at me.

Now I was on a roll. My hands tingled, and my excitement mounted.

Taking the portrait down, I set it against a wall, and grabbed my largest sketchpad. Gesture drawing. That was it -- that was the outlet I needed for my nervous energy.

Several boxes of charcoal sticks were on nearby shelves, along with my pastels and watercolors. I opened one, and brought it to the table where there was plenty of room.

Flipping the sketchpad cover over and placing it where the portrait had been, I began. I made long, rapid strokes, getting in the major forms. I drew and drew, one after the other -- Bella sleeping on the large bed in my bedroom, its sole function to play a part in my human charade when human visitors dropped in. Thankfully, that wasn't often. I drew Bella sitting at the kitchen table, laughing shyly with me. I drew her horrified expression as I had turned to her that very morning. I drew Bella walking in the night, rainwater dripping from her hair, making her look like a mermaid in human form come ashore for an evening stroll.

The charcoal rapidly began to disappear as I used up stick after stick. I still wasn't done. Next I took up my pastels.

I worked in the same way with them -- rapidly, grasping the essence of Bella, even as I managed to capture her outer beauty. The pastels allowed me to blend and fuse colors into each other with my fingers or a stump. The charcoal did, too, but I had not wanted to work that way with it. The pastel drawings were becoming much more detailed, too.

For some reason I stopped, and my eyes swung over to the portrait. I frowned. No, it wasn't quite right... I could see that now that I had done all these drawings. I hadn't counted, but I must have produced thirty or more.

I picked up the portrait and set it up on the easel once more, setting the sketchpad aside. Once again, I started putting colors on the canvas as quickly as my need drove me. I had always preferred acrylics to oil paints because of the much faster drying time. The immediacy of my painting style required this.

Now I could see what I needed to improve. I painted lighter colors around her face, adjusting the slope of her neck, the angle of her jaw. I also made her eyes come alive with joy. I didn't want to see that lifeless, hopeless look in them that I had noticed when I had first found her.

I stepped back and gazed at my creation. There was Bella, her humanity incarnate before me. She looked so real, I felt she might step out of the canvas and into my arms, as Pygmalion's beautiful sculpture had done in the Greek myth.

I had no idea how long I had been painting, but the sun had been gliding toward the west as I had immersed myself in the beauty of this human girl I had scarcely gotten to know. Hours must have passed as I feverishly worked, but I really had no idea what time it might be.

That was when I heard the crying.

It was unmistakable. Someone was crying, and very close by, too. My hearing was much too keen for me to be mistaken about something like that.

A human's heart would have started thumping excitedly at that point. As it was, I inhaled deeply, and a very familiar scent drifted over to me.

Dropping my brushes at once, I rushed to the door. The weeping got louder as I approached it.

I threw the door open as if salvation lay beyond it, stepping out into the hallway.

I looked down, and there was Bella, slumped against the wall a few feet from the door. Her shoulders were heaving, and great sobs wrenched themselves from her slight figure. The money I had given her lay next to her, rolled up just as it was when I had handed it to her.

Slowly, I approached her. She seemed unaware that I had opened the door, even though I had not done so quietly.

Kneeling beside her, I laid a very gentle, cautious hand on her head, caressing her hair softly.

"Bella?" My voice was full of wonder and sadness. Her pain touched me as no human pain had ever done before. Not even in my human existence had I been moved like this.

She continued to sob as if she hadn't heard me. Both of my hands gently came down upon her shoulders then, and I tried to show her through soft touching alone that I felt for her, that I cared. I was rewarded for my efforts. Her head came up, and she looked at me with tear-swollen eyes. She said nothing. I smiled at her as sweetly as I could to show her that she had nothing to fear. I would rather be voluntarily staked by a vampire hunter than hurt this enchanting girl.

"Come on, Bella," I whispered, and then I picked her up slowly, carefully, so as not to scare her. Thankfully, she did not struggle. I brought her into the living room, carefully laying her on the huge couch. Then I knelt by her side, placing my hands on hers, although she couldn't help flinching at their coldness, naturally. I gazed into her eyes, and she gazed back, her expression a combination of wonder and sadness. She mirrored my feelings exactly.

I couldn't help bringing one of my hands up to her forehead and smoothing away a couple of stray locks that lay there as I continued to gaze at her. I caressed her heated skin, and allowed my cold fingers to trail down to her jaw, skimming her tempting lips.

She sighed then, and her eyes filled with tears again.

"Who...are you? Really?" she whispered.

I smiled. I already knew the effect my smile had on her.

"Someone who has fallen madly in love with you. Someone who would rather die than harm a single hair on your head."

She sighed again, and smiled weakly. "What about...the other one?" Her voice held a tone of acceptance, but there was that small hint of doubt, of hesitant fear.

"I shall try my hardest to keep him away from you," I vowed, turning serious.

"But...what is...the other one?" she persisted as I continued to let my fingers trail slowly over her face. I was delighted that she had made no move to stop me from doing this.

I sighed. "I need some time to be able to explain," I told her. "He can be controlled, I assure you. He knows that I care about you, so I can keep him from hurting you. If you will give me the time to show you, you will realize that 'the other one' is not the real me."

She frowned, still doubting. I decided to try another tack.

"Why were you crying out there?" I prompted.

She looked away from me, mumbling that she didn't know.

"Are you quite sure that you don't know?" I persisted gently.

She brought her gaze back to mine and saw my smile. She remained serious in spite of it.

"You mystify me," she said suddenly. "One minute, I want to be with you, and the next, I'm scared to death of you. I've seen abusive men before. They can be very charming and sweet, and then, they turn into monsters."

"Is that why you were crying? You thought that I might be one of those men?"

"I don't know...you're somehow -- different, I think. I can't place you, really. There's something so good about you, and yet -- I just don't know. I was crying because... I'm so confused. And I have nowhere else to go..."

_Well,_ I thought_, we're making some progress here._

I smiled again and took my hands away from her face as I slowly straightened.

"Would you like to see something?" I was grinning foolishly at her. I just couldn't help myself.

She stared at me warily. "What?"

"Come on," I replied as I took both of her hands, helping her to stand. When she was up, I guided her into the apartment and turned her slightly toward the portrait.

"Oh!" she exclaimed to my utter delight.

"What do you think?" I asked, a bit anxiously.

She shook her head, speechless for a few seconds. Then I heard the sweetest words. "It's beautiful..." Her voice broke on the last word.

"Thank you," I answered, my non-human heart bursting with joy.

"You're very, very talented," she went on, not taking her eyes away from the painting. "But you've made me much too beautiful, I think." She giggled self-consciously as she said this.

"Oh!" she exclaimed once more as she noticed the drawings strewn all around the portrait. "Is that really me, Edward? Oh, my gosh!"

I couldn't let her go on like this. Turning her around, I gazed earnestly into her eyes.

"Bella, you seem to have a problem seeing yourself clearly," I said softly as my eyes affectionately roamed her face.

And then my lips softly came down upon hers.

**********

**BPOV**

_I had not known what to do when I stepped outside his apartment. I had made myself walk over to the elevator, and punch the button to go down. When the elevator doors opened, though, I was unable to step into the compartment. So I stood there, indecisive, until the doors closed, and I heard the elevator swoosh down the shaft._

_After a few minutes, I walked back to his apartment, but I didn't dare knock on the door. So I sat down, my back agaisnt the wall near his door. I put my hands in my lap, gazing at them idiotically for what seemed like a long time. No thoughts crossed my mind. _

_Eventually, I reached into the front pocket of my jeans and pulled out the thick wad of bills he had given me. I knew I should return them. It didn't feel right to take money from him. It made me feel like a -- what had he called it? Ah, yes-- 'a streetwalker'. Funny he should have used that word. Sometimes he spoke as if he came from an earlier century._

_At some point, my feelings just became too overwhelming, and I began to cry. I had nowhere to go; someone might recognize me from "American's Most Wanted" or something. I had met a man who had showed me great kindness, and yet, had terrified me. We hadn't known each other more than a day, either. _

_It became too much for me to handle, so I broke down..._

I could scarcely believe the strength of my feelings for this man, who seemed to be about my age, and yet could kiss like a guy with years of experience around women. My depression, a constant companion for years now, flitted away as I nestled into his arms, allowing him to ravish my insanely hungry mouth.

My lips certainly did not believe that Edward could possibly hurt me. My brain was too tired of running to argue. So I went with the flow of things... If I was going to die, it would be preferable to do so in his cold embrace, anyway.

Now here I was, letting him kiss me, and kissing him back, too. I realized that I was as hungry for him as he was for me. Incredibly, this didn't frighten me at all anymore. I became lost in a sensuous haze as he molded my body to his.

Then, just like in the movies, a phone rang somewhere. A phone? I had not seen one in his apartment yet.

He pulled away from me, staggering out of my arms. Strangely, he didn't seem to be breathing heavily. Any other guy would have been at that point. I tried to hold on to him, but he slipped out of my embrace with a smile, turning to dash into the kitchen.

Then I remembered the money, and my mouth fell open. Would it still be out there?

I ran to the door, flung it open, and was relieved to see the money, still tightly wadded up on the floor near his door. I picked it up right away and came back inside, closing the door softly. Then, vastly relieved, I walked over to the couch, placing the money on the coffee table.

Just as I sat down, he came out of the kitchen. He smiled when he saw me, and then noticed the money.

"Gosh!" he exclaimed, as relieved as I had been. "You mean to tell me we just left all that money lying out there? But why didn't you take it with you? Why didn't you use it?"

I smiled back, shaking my head. "I simply couldn't. It wouldn't have been right."

He frowned for a second or two. Then he brightened. "Well, of course I see your point. But I really wanted you to have it, no strings attached."

I would have found that very hard to believe several hours ago. Now, however, I was beginning to see that there was more to Edward Cullen than met the eye, and I wasn't talking about his alter ego, either. There was just... _something_ so good, so pure about him. It clashed with the part of him that was monstruous, that was probably capable of killing.

I was crazy in love with him.

"I didn't see a phone in the kitchen before," I said inanely.

He shrugged. "Oh, I leave my cell all over the place."

He paused, and I could see he wanted to tell me something. His gaze was troubled.

Some part of my brain told me that it was strange for him to be trying to have a serious conversation now, just after we had shared such a passionate kiss. Surely he would have wanted to continue. I was still in a pleasant daze myself.

When he continued to stand there saying nothing, I became a little alarmed. How many other shoes were about to drop?

"You have a secret you haven't told me about yet."

My heart jumped, as he stared at me sadly now.

"Was it the reason you wanted to kill yourself?" he asked in a strained whisper.

I could only gape at him in shocked silence. I had been aware that he would eventually bring up the matter, but it was still a huge surprise.

I wondered if the call had anything to do with his question...

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